


Too Good to Be True

by ChillieBean



Series: Outlaws and Crime Lords [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Deadlock Gang, Rebels at Heart Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 09:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18163622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChillieBean/pseuds/ChillieBean
Summary: The gang investigate a tip that Jesse thinks is too good to be true.He should have trusted his gut.





	Too Good to Be True

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fic for the Rebels at Heart Deadlock fanzine. It was an idea I've wanted to write for *ever* and the introduction of Ashe gave me the perfect means.
> 
> Edit: Changed the name of Jesse's original gang to align with him being part of a _chapter_ of Deadlock Rebels.

Jesse reads over the scribbled notes of the tip again, taking a drag from a cigarette. _Coordinates: 36.214, -106.937. Military hardware in long-term storage since the Crisis._

He turns his attention to his tablet, projecting the warehouse. It sits on an unnamed road, probably once owned by some military installation if there are military-grade weapons stored there. He switches to an aerial view, and the entire area is devoid of any human intervention aside from the warehouse, so it probably is long abandoned.

Flicking back to the warehouse again, from the most recent pictures taken by Ethan on a scouting mission two days ago, he analyses the building: it’s run down, there are broken windows, and there is even rust on the outside. Rust. That’s just how old this building is, back when they were using galvanised steel instead of stainless steel.

He takes another drag, exhaling the smoke as he sits back in his seat. It _could_ be possible that this is a long-abandoned warehouse, forgotten over time. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve raided places like this. But a building this large? After this long? Someone _surely_ has picked it clean already. There really is no harm in checking, best case they get their hands on hardware they can sell to the highest bidder. Worst case, there’s nothing.

There is one issue, though, and it leaves Jesse feeling incredibly uneasy over it—the tip is too clean. It’s like a gift has been dropped on their lap, neatly wrapped with a bow on top. They’ve had tips like this before, they went for them in the early days when they didn’t know any better.

Well. Jesse knew better. He spent his entire life up until thirteen in Deadlock Rebels right by his father’s side, learning the difference between good and bad tips, knowing when to investigate and knowing when to leave it. More often than not the scouts sent out would report nothing out of the ordinary and they’d claim the spoils. Other times, they would report back, noting heavy police presence a block or two away and they laughed because once again the feds couldn’t get their hands on them.

But it only takes one time for it to come crumbling down. One bad egg amongst the bunch to rat on them, to set up the _perfect_ tip so no one is the wiser, and their entire world crashes down around them. Jesse was lucky he wasn’t there on _that_ raid, it only took everyone he loved **—** his father first, those who were with him, then the rest of the New Mexico chapter of the gang.

Good thing, too, that Jesse considers himself an exceptional actor. He did get questioned by the feds, and he denied having any involvement in the gang. After all, it wasn’t _his_ fault that he was born into it. They ate it up, hook, line and sinker.

Jesse’s had his eye on those around him since this new Deadlock was established; Ashe, Ethan and Nathan, first and foremost—not that he would expect any of them to flip, not after everything they’ve built—but also on the leaders of the other gangs they’ve managed to recruit.

He knows the tells for a rat, he can sniff them out from a mile away. Take the coup just two months ago, when the Guerrillas tried to take the leadership of Deadlock off them. The key is keeping your friends close, and your enemies closer. Yeah, these guys might have Deadlock patches, but it doesn’t mean they’re Deadlock loyal.

The thing is, and Jesse has a silent chuckle to himself as he stubs out his cigarette before reaching for the pack, plucking another and placing it between his lips, if anyone is planning a coup, if anyone’s defected or ratted them out, they sure as shit wouldn’t let Jesse know, not after the last attempt. They’d be stupid to show it, honestly.

Doesn’t shake the feeling of dread Jesse has sitting in the pit of his stomach that they’re about to walk into a trap, though. Tips like this just don’t happen. He tried talking to Ashe about it when it was first found on an 'encrypted' channel they just so happened to be tuned into. ‘Overwatch have increased their presence in the Southwest recently, we have to tread carefully,’ he tried telling her. ‘We could lose everything we’ve built in one fell swoop.’

Of course, she wouldn’t listen. Why would she? She’s always been in it for the money, for the bottom dollar. ‘This will grow our wealth,’ she replied. ‘We’ll be rich, can live like kings and queens, can buy everything we ever wanted,’ she said when he questioned it again.

But Jesse isn’t in this life for the money. Sure, they make a pretty penny on their runs, on their sales, and with Ashe’s business knowledge, the now three legitimate businesses they have set up for money laundering just makes it all easier to move the cash around. That’s not the point of an outlaw hovercycle gang, though. The point is to create anarchy, to live life his own way, with his own rules and on his own terms. Money’s nice but by no means a necessity.

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter what Jesse says; Ashe is as stubborn as a mule and would go with or without him. If, _if_ they’re about to walk into a trap, he’d much rather be there with her, protect her and the others. He’s not a coward, he’s not going to stay back like a dog with its tail between its legs. He can take whoever could be waiting for them.

“Ethan has reported in,” Ashe says, racing in. Jesse looks up, noting the crazed grin on her face.

“And?”

“It’s clear. We move in ten minutes.”

Before Jesse can even pull the cigarette from his lips, Ashe is gone again. He sighs, setting the note down, turning off the display, taking one long, final drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out. Picking up Peacekeeper, Jesse gives her one last look, a final check of her loaded chamber before holstering her and leaving the room.

The base is its usual busy before they go on a raid, those who are within its walls are moving with purpose, excitement burning in their eyes at the prospect of getting their hands on this loot. And despite the niggling doubt that this is a trap, Jesse _is_ a little excited; it’ll be another notch on his wall signifying another successful raid.

“You know the drill, people,” Ashe says, voice carrying out of the armoury. Jesse stands in the doorway, plucks a cigar from his breast pocket and places it between his teeth, unlit for the moment. “Guns, knives, whatever you need to protect yourself that isn’t big and bulky. The Garcia trio will handle the truck convoy, and we’ll split up into three groups of twenty. We get in, no chatter, no mucking about, and the sooner we pack everything, the quicker we can get out.” She glances at Jesse, and Jesse nods back. At least she understands the need for a quick run. “Jess, you got anything to add?”

“Think you covered it,” Jesse says, reaching into his pocket for his lighter and lighting up his cigar. He takes a quick puff, exhaling slowly and looking around the room. “In and out, quick as we can.”

“All right,” Ashe says, grinning, “let’s go!”

Jesse watches as the group files past him, Ashe gives him a small punch in the arm when she passes him too. He stares at the empty room, sighs, and follows behind. He doesn’t say anything to anyone as he gets ready, as everyone piles into the trucks, as they make their way in the dead of night to the warehouse. They didn’t listen before, they definitely won’t now.

“You’re awful quiet,” Ashe murmurs from beside him. “Never seen you this speechless before a raid.”

“Don’t feel right.”

“This? Again?” Ashe admonishes, and Jesse can _hear_ the eye roll. “It’s fine. Ethan reported in saying it was clean. We have sixty guys with us, if _anyone_ is there, we’ll have them outnumbered.”

Jesse inhales and exhales deeply, casting his eyes outside the passenger side window. It doesn’t matter what he says, doesn’t matter how much his gut is telling him this is a trap, Ashe won’t listen. “Sure.”

“If not, if there’s a sting, don’t worry about it. I can buy us out.”

Jesse rolls his eyes, looking at Ashe. “You think you can bail _all_ of us out?”

“Not all of us, no, we need someone to take the fall.” Ashe slides her hand on top of his and squeezes gently. “Just you. We’re family, remember?”

Looking from Ashe’s eyes to their joined hands, Jesse smiles softly. “Yeah,” he says, more for her sake than his. He knows if anything were to happen, if the authorities got their hands on them—the four founding members of their notorious gang, which is making massive waves throughout the Southwest in the short time they’ve been in operation—the bail would be set so high not even Ashe could buy them out. “Yeah, I know.”

“There’s nothin’ to worry about,” she says quietly, shuffling in closer and resting her head on his shoulder. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Feel like I should be sayin’ that to you,” Jesse replies, kissing the top of her head before resting his on top.

“I don’t need your protection.”

“Don’t need yours either.”

“So you were completely fine when you were surrounded by six guards on that Los Alamos heist?”

“I had ‘em contained.”

“They were ready to open fire.”

“I _had_ them,” Jesse reiterates. It might have been six on one, but he had six bullets in his gun with their names on it. He pulls his head up and looks at Ashe, she glances up and smirks. “And you didn’t need me when your parents put you on lockdown?”

Ashe snorts. “Was planning my escape when you showed up.”

“From what I remember, you were swearin’ like a sailor ‘cause you didn’t wanna risk the jump from your window to the roof of the porch. What would you have done if I wasn’t there to catch you?”

“Would’ve had Bob do it.”

“Subtle.”

Ashe smiles, resting her head back on Jesse’s shoulder. “Seems we got each other’s backs in the end.”

“Sure do.” Jesse looks out the front window and a wave of anxiety washes over him as the truck slows to a stop. The warehouse is dark, seemingly abandoned, and there is no light other than that from the trucks.

Ashe sits up, gives Jesse a wink, and Jesse climbs out of the cab. He unholsters Peacekeeper, his thumb over the hammer and ready to pull it back at the first hint of danger. In dead silence, using only hand signals, he motions for the twenty people in his group to do another perimeter check. Adrenaline courses through his veins, and after what seems like forever, they report back giving the all clear.

With a nod to the rest of the group, they make their way inside. The only sources of light are from their flashlights, and they are greeted with crates along the length of the warehouse. After a quick scan of the building, checking every room and confirming it’s empty, they make their move.

“Make it quick,” Ashe says, barely a whisper even though it echoes off the walls. She looks at Jesse, smirks and approaches him. “See, nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, I’ll admit that this one got me a little paranoid,” he says, approaching a crate and opening it. It’s filled with straw, but when he digs his hand through it, there is nothing in there, no weaponry, no hardware. He frowns, opening another and the same thing. “Did no one check—”

“Hands where I can see them!”

A silent rage builds inside Jesse as he tightens his grip on Peacekeeper, cocking the hammer.

“Turn around slowly, and no one gets hurt,” a voice from right behind him says.

Aiming Peacekeeper at the roof, he does what the man says, turning slowly. His eyes settle on him, and he is what Jesse would expect from a fed, dressed in all black, night vision goggles sitting atop his head, rifle aimed squarely at Jesse’s chest. But it’s the lack of a mask that has him surprised, like this man is so sure of his win that he’s broken protocol and showed his face. He has no remarkable features outside of the goatee, but he is grinning like he won the world’s biggest prize and that pushes Jesse further into anger.

Jesse’s eyes flit around the room, seeing an equal number of the same _masked_ black-dressed officers aiming weapons at his people. Anger just about boils over at the person with the gun aimed at Ashe.

“Drop the gun, and no one has to get hurt. Not you, not her.”

Jesse bares his teeth as he glares at the agent with the rifle on him, and fights the urge to pull his gun on him, instead slowly lowering it to the ground. The more he looks at this man, the less he is convinced they are FBI or CIA. “You don’t look like feds,” he says as he raises his hands again, putting them behind his head.

“‘Cause I’m not,” the man replies. “You’ve never heard of me.” He doesn’t take his eyes off Jesse as he lowers his gun, and quickly sidesteps behind him, roughly lowering his hands.

“So you’re sayin’ that those rumours of Overwatch’s black ops division are true, then?” Jesse grunts as one hand is cuffed.

“Wouldn’t be a secret if I told you.”

The second Jesse hears a gunshot ring, it’s all over. Adrenaline pumps through his veins as his fight-or-flight response kicks in, and he takes a moment to thank his lucky stars that the agent hadn’t cuffed his other hand yet. More gunshots ring out as he elbows the man in the gut, hitting him with enough force he is knocked backwards. It gives Jesse enough time to spin, kick the man to the ground, pick Peacekeeper up and aim it at him.

As the man raises his hands, Jesse takes his rifle off him, aims that at him too before pointing Peacekeeper to the ceiling and firing two rounds. The shots of his revolver carry above the rest of the rounds, echoing through the warehouse and is then followed by silence as everyone looks at him.

Jesse grins, just as wildly as the Overwatch agent did when he had the upper hand. “You made a mistake comin’ here today.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/BeanChillie) Come say hi!!


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